


nursery sharks

by christchex



Series: Shark Bait [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Gen, Michael Sanders AU, ], the cutest of pre-relationship michael/alex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 09:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28469043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christchex/pseuds/christchex
Summary: “Do you remember what I said to you, the last time I was here?” Walt asked, quietly to Michael only. The other adults at the table were busy going through the papers, initialing on lines. Michael finally lifted his head to look at him properly. He nodded. “You’re going to come with me, to live with me, from now on. Is that ok with you?” Michael frowned and Walt tightened his grip on the stuffed shark still in his hand. Michael looked at his face. Walt tried to be as open as he could, tried to be the kind of person Michael needed in his life, the kind of person Ms. Nora thought he could be.Michael nodded.“I- I brought something for you,” Walt said, tripping over his words in worry. Michael may have agreed to come, but Walt was still uncertain. “I know you like space, but um, I thought maybe you would like something a little different.” He took the plush shark from under the table and placed it next to Michael’s drawing. “For you.”orSix firsts in the Sanders household and a second.
Relationships: Michael Guerin & Walt Sanders
Series: Shark Bait [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085327
Comments: 77
Kudos: 104





	nursery sharks

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is all because some of my friends and I were chatting and someone brought up the idea of Michael becoming obsessed with sharks because Walt bought him a plushie shark at the second hand shop. That's really it. And then it spiraled out of control. There's a pretty extensive universe for this, and at least 5 other ficlets to go with it. 
> 
> So, anyway, for my friends- christina, tove, britt, brooke, nin, L, and especially hal, who owns the real life sharkey- thank you for helping me out through this hell hole of a year. I love you all. You are all my emotional support shark plushie and I love you.
> 
> **A note: Michael, Max, & Isobel got out of the pods at age 5/6 in this. Why? because I said so and because I desperately wanted little baby Michael and Alex to be in kindergarten together, for purely adorable reasons. Max & Isobel are at a different kindergarten, because of how school districts work. And because I have a very cute fic planned where they meet on the playground on day. **

**The First Day**

It wasn’t the first time that Walt questioned just what the fuck he was doing. It was 9a.m. on a Monday morning and the Department of Family Services had just unlocked their doors. Walt had papers in one hand and a stuffed shark he had found at the second-hand shop in the other. He had cleaned it the best he could, had opened up a seam and replaced the clumping stuffing with fresh pulled cotton. The resulting seam was pulled and uneven, but Walt had hoped the kid wouldn’t mind.

The case manager walked up to the door as Walt stared at it, worry seeping into his heart and his chest tightening.

“Oh! Mr. Sanders! I didn’t expect you so early,” Erin Halstein said as she walked past him. She held the door open for him. “We weren’t scheduled to go to the home until 10:30.” She smiled at him as they made their way past the reception desk to her cubicle.

“I know Ms. Halstein,” Walt said as he put the papers down on the chair near her desk. The desk itself was overflowing with documents, notebooks, and knickknacks. Walt worried that, if he put the papers on the desk, they’d be lost forever. “I just wanted to make sure everything was in order, before we went.” He played nervously with the shark’s fin.

“I know it’s been a bit of a journey for you Mr. Sanders,” Erin said with a smile. “But I promise that you have everything in order. You passed all the courses, your background check was clean, and your references couldn’t have been better.” She plopped into her seat and gestured to the free seat.

“It’s just been a long process,” Walt said as he took the chair not occupied by his paperwork. “I was denied once and I don’t want it to happen again.”

Erin typed away quickly at her computer while Walt spoke. Her eyes turned sad as he mentioned his previous problems with the department.

“You were denied by someone who assumed they knew anything about you because you’re a single man and they were classist bigots. They never even did any of the proper checks.” She gave him a sad smile. “I don’t have to tell you that you’re lucky, you know you are, that they were fired and that the boss had us go back and check their paperwork. It’s all there now Mr. Sanders, you have our stamp of approval and everything. He’s going to go home with you today. It’s not going to be easy after that, I don’t have to tell you that either, but we’re not a barrier to you.” She smiled at him again. Her computer dinged with an email notification. “And we’re in luck! The group home is ready for us, so we can head over early.”

She stood up and grabbed her battered briefcase. Walt stood, grabbed his papers, and followed her back out the door.

-

Beyond needing a fresh coat of paint, the group home was well looked after. Walt could hear the sounds of the children in the backyard, voices yelling as they played some game or another. He and Ms. Halstein did not bother with the front door. They moved to the side of the house where the gate to the backyard stood. Ms. Halstein opened the gate without hesitation.

“Hello!” She cried into the backyard. The kids running through the grass did not stop for a second at the greeting.

“Good morning,” said a voice from the patio to their right. It was a plain brick, the half-wall kept the bushes from along the gate in place, but opened up once you rounded the backyard proper, leaving on the brick and the grass merging together. Mrs. Braumer sat at the table with a small, curly-haired child. They were coloring, Mrs. Braumer drew a lovely picture of a butterfly while the child scribbled black, purple, and blue onto his paper. “We were expecting you a little later, Mr. Sanders, but Michael here said he didn’t mind.”

Walt knew that wasn’t necessarily true. He knew that Michael didn’t actually say anything, but he knew the boy could make his feelings known without words at all. So, if Mrs. Braumer said Michael didn’t mind, he’d believe it.

Michael kept his head down as he blended the purple into the blue, the lines thick as he tried with his child’s skill to make the night sky. His eyes flittered up to look at Walt before they looked back down at his drawing.

Walt and Ms. Halstein take the two remaining seats at the table. Michael quietly pushed a picture over to Walt, another drawing of the night sky, this one black with stars all over it. Walt can tell that Michael took care with it, tried to color so that the black didn’t cross over into the blank space of the stars. He missed in spots.

“Thank you,” he said to Michael, voice gruff but quiet. Michael shot him a small smile before he went back to his picture.

“Today’s the day, isn’t that right?” Mrs. Braumer asked to the table in general. Ms. Halstein smiled in reply. “I’m sure there are a few things we need to sign, to get out of the way. So why don’t we do that now?” Ms. Halstein reached over to her briefcase and Walt put his own papers onto the table.

Michael stayed silent at the table, crayon coloring back and forth on this paper. He looked at Walt with a furrowed brow.

“Do you remember what I said to you, the last time I was here?” Walt asked, quietly to Michael only. The other adults at the table were busy going through the papers, initialing on lines. Michael finally lifted his head to look at him properly. He nodded. “You’re going to come with me, to live with me, from now on. Is that ok with you?” Michael frowned and Walt tightened his grip on the stuffed shark still in his hand. Michael looked at his face. Walt tried to be as open as he could, tried to be the kind of person Michael needed in his life, the kind of person Ms. Nora thought he could be.

Michael nodded.

“I- I brought something for you,” Walt said, tripping over his words in worry. Michael may have agreed to come, but Walt was still uncertain. “I know you like space, but um, I thought maybe you would like something a little different.” He took the plush shark from under the table and placed it next to Michael’s drawing. “For you.”

Michael looked at Walt and then at the plush shark and then at the other adults at the table. Mrs. Braumer smiled at him and nodded in encouragement. Every time Walt had visited Michael at the home, he hadn’t played with any toys beyond the crayons. Walt was afraid that Michael didn’t know how to play with toys.

Michael looked from Mrs. Braumer’s smiling face back to the shark. He grabbed it and lifted it, moving it around and squishing one of the fins with his hand. His other hand moved along the soft plush fabric of his side. Michael moved his arm slowly and started to hug the shark, bringing it close to his body and nuzzling his face into its soft nose. Michael smiled, big and toothy, at Walt. He kept the plush shark close to him as he moved to a new sheet of paper to color.

Walt smiled back. Day one and he had done something right.

-

The house had been cleaned the week prior, from floorboards to ceiling. At the time, Walt thought that maybe he had over done it, looking at the house now he thought maybe he’d actually been right. Michael’s first introduction to his new home wasn’t dust and dirt and age, instead it was homey and lived-in and clean. Walt wasn’t sure Michael noticed it, truth be told, but he still felt a sense of pride.

He had done a lot of work to ensure that their home was ready. The back room that had always been a catch-all was now cleared and filled again. This time, instead of junk, it had a new single bed, a dresser with some plain clothes in it, a desk for when Michael got older for homework, and a bookshelf. The bookshelf was full of things Walt had found at the second-hand store- picture books and chapter books, a small collection of cars and animal figures, puzzles that had all the pieces. He tried not to go overboard preparing, after all he didn’t know what Michael liked, but he didn’t want Michael to walk into another bare room like the one at the group home.

Walt kept his eyes on the road as he drove and tried not to let himself get lost in his thoughts. They would be home soon and he’d watch Michael’s reaction, he’d figure out what he liked and what he didn’t. They’d figure out this whole family thing together.

Michael sat in the cramped back seat of the truck, the bench thin and barely able to fit his booster seat. He had the plush shark clutched to his chest as he watched the world pass by in the window. A small backpack sat at his feet, the few things bought for him at the group home that he was taking with him. The radio played Hank Williams quietly, static buzzing as the station went in and out.

He put on his turn signal and slowed down. He waited for the single car to pass before he took the left turn into the entrance to the junkyard. He chanced a peak in the rearview mirror to see Michael. His eyes were big and on the school bus that had been sitting there for the past month. Walt knew that it would probably continue to sit there for years after. Michael’s eyes darted back and forth to everything, he had one hand pressed against the window and the other hand held the plush shark up to the window too, as if to help the toy see.

He drove slowly down the driveway, past the yard and the large garage doors for the work bays. He slowed to a stop as he pulled up next to the house. He turned back to Michael as he put the truck in park and cut the engine.

“Welcome home Michael,” he said with a small smile.

Michael beamed back at him.

Walt helped him out of his booster seat and walked with him to the front door. Michael still held the shark in his one hand, but the other was pointing to objects.

“That’s the front porch and a swing,” Walt explained as they walked up to the house. Michael followed after him on the narrow steps. Walt looked back as he pointed toward something in the distance. “That’s a dog house,” Walt explained as he opened the door. “If we decide to get a pet, the dog would live out there.” Michael eyed the house for a moment before shaking his head and pointing toward the house. “No, the dog wouldn’t live in the house,” Walt said, though he wasn’t entirely sure that’s what Michael meant. “He’d be the kind of dog that stayed outside.” 

Michael just shook his head again and looked up at Walt.

Walt sighed. “Well, it’s not like we’re getting a dog any time soon.”

He pushed the door open and ushered Michael into the house. Walt took his shoes off at the door and then helped Michael do the same. He took Michael on a brief tour of the house before bringing him, and his backpack, into his bedroom.

If Walt thought that Michael was in awe of the junkyard, it had nothing on Michael taking in his new bedroom. His eyes were big as he moved through the room, touching everything as he went. His eyes widened at the single bed- a room not shared at the group home was an impossibility- and then over at the bookshelf. Walt smiled as Michael gently touched the scrap metal that he had turned into letters- Michael’s name spelled out on the bookshelf, declaring the space his. 

-

That night, after a long day of more introductions and minor breakdown during dinner, Walt told Michael it was time for bed. Michael’s wide frightened eyes seemed to scream just how scared he was.

Walt walked with him into the bedroom and showed him where the pajamas were. He helped Michael get changed and walked him over to the bookshelf.

“Pick one out,” he told Michael, “something not too long. We’ll read it before bed.” Michael hesitated. “I’ll be here, ok? I’ll keep you safe and I’ll be here as you fall asleep.” Walt wasn’t sure how he knew that that was Michael’s fear, Ms. Nora hadn’t said anything about any abilities that could project feelings, but maybe it had something to do with the fact that he remembered what it was like to be a sad, scared little boy.

Michael nodded and looked at the shelf. He still had the shark in his hand, hadn’t actually let it go the entire day. He took his time at the shelf, pulled books off the shelf, looked at them, and then put them back. Finally, he pulled one out and turned towards Walt. It was one of those animal information books for kids, lots of pictures and only a paragraph or so of words on each page. Right on the cover was a large shark.

“Sharks, huh?” Walt asked as he moved toward the bed.

Michael followed him and climbed up until he was sitting with his back to the headboard. Walt moved to sit down next to him. Michael looked at him until Walt wrapped an arm around him. Michael cuddled up to his side, the shark hugged tightly to his chest.

Walt put the book down for a moment. He made sure Michael was covered by his blankets as much as he could be. He fluffed the pillow and sat back down. Michael burrowed into his side.

With a smile, Walt picked up the book and turned to the first page. “Sharks,” he read quietly, “the great predators of the seas…”

* * *

**The First Trip to the Store**

He had tried to make sure the house was ready for Michael, had made up a room that was full but blank enough he could decorate it however he wanted. He had made sure there was a stool in the bathroom for when he brushed his teeth. He had finally connected his tv to the VHS player so that they could rent videos from the library. He had everything he could think of prepared and ready.

The pantry was bare, though. There were the staples, of course, the bread and the peanut butter and the pasta. There were tortillas in the fridge and fruit in the basket. There were actual place mats on the table and spoons that would fit Michael’s 5-year old hands.

What there wasn’t in the kitchen, were things Michael liked. Or at least, things Michael chose for himself.

Walt let a few days pass, days with Cheerios for breakfast and sandwiches for lunch. There were dinners with a protein and two vegetables. There were minor breakdowns in communication, where Walt could not figure out what Michael tried to relay. There were things learned- lima beans were a no-go, but broccoli was a yes- and after three days in the house, Walt felt like maybe he and Michael were learning how to live together. He also thought, hopefully, that Michael was enjoying living there too.

He brought his shark everywhere, every meal and every room. The shark had a place of honor on the toilet during bath time and sat on Michael’s lap during meals. They read the book about sharks every night, so far, and Michael’s smile after it ended was always enough for Walt. Even if he wanted to read something else, right now he couldn’t take that smile away from the boy.

The point was, Michael had been in the house for days and the most he had asked of Walt was to read the same book every night. It was a surprise when Michael held up the market’s weekly advert and pointed to something on the page.

“Goldfish?” Walt squinted at the page. Michael was not yet used to making sure he didn’t obscure Walt’s vision when he held things. Michael nodded. “You want goldfish crackers?” Michael nodded, a smile huge on his face. “Well, let’s get you some goldfish.”

-

Walt was sure that Michael had never ridden in a shopping cart. It wasn’t a surprise, Walt knew that Michael hadn’t been out of the pod for long and the group home wouldn’t have brought all the kids to the market, or if they had, there would have been someone smaller who would have had to sit in the cart.

Walt grabbed the cart. He reached down and lifted Michael so that he could sit in the large section of the cart. Michael looked around, his shark clutched to his chest, before he sat down with his back to Walt and he could watch the store go by him.

They passed through the market, with Walt picking up more fruits and vegetables for the house. Every once in a while, Michael would sit up and point to something on the shelf, including when Michael stopped Walt from buying purple grapes instead of green ones. Walt had chocolate chip cookies next to the bananas, new juices next to Walt’s instant coffee.

Walt turned down the cracker aisle and snuck a look down at Michael. Walt kept his smile small as Michael’s eyes grew larger at the choices in front of him. Walt moved the cart out of the way and stretch out his arms to lift Michael up. Michael wrapped his arms around Walt’s neck, plush shark trapped between them. He settled Michael on his hip, shark safely in Walt’s hand, as he moved to the goldfish cracker section.

“Ok kid,” he said, “let’s pick out some fish.” Michael’s smile grew bigger as Walt used the shark to point toward the choices. “We have ‘original’, whatever cheese that is, cheddar, pizza, pretzel.” Walt shook his head at the options. “I don’t know what half of these are, but how about we stick to the original for now?”

He looked over at Michael, who was eyeing a bag on a lower shelf. Walt shifted so he could hand the shark back to Michael. He grabbed a bag of the original flavor and looked over to what could have caught Michael’s attention. There was another bag, a cheddar flavored one, that had a rainbow of colors on it. Walt put the original in the cart and faced Michael.

“You want these too?” He asked as he bent slightly to grab the bag of rainbow fish. Michael looked at him, face worried and mouth frowning. He nodded. “Ok then, original and rainbow.” Michael’s eyes grew wide again. “We can get the two and decide which we like better, ok?” Michael nodded at that, a small almost disbelieving smile on his face.

Michael moved his arms and started to shimmy his body. Walt bent to put him down on the floor. Michael held on to his shark and the bag of rainbow goldfish, both pressed tight to his body with one arm because the other held Walt’s hand as they walked. Walt didn’t mention how much harder steering a cart one-handed was. Michael’s small hand in his felt perfect, like it belonged, like he was doing Ms. Nora proud.

-

Walt watched in amusement as Michael alternated between the two types of goldfish. He had a small bowl with a mix of the two. He would pick one up, pretend to swim it toward the plush shark, before having the shark ‘eat’ it. After every time, Michael would smile big and then eat the cracker himself. Walt watched from the side, amused at his kid’s antics, and accepted the fact that from then on, he would always have to buy two types of goldfish.

It wasn’t a hardship.

* * *

**The First ‘I Love You’**

The wind howled through the junkyard, tearing through the broken windows of the school bus, and clanging the hubcap gazebo. Walt watched as the lightning struck in the distance. Soon, the roaring thunder would shake the house. Walt felt Michael shudder next to him in his sleep. His boy was sensitive to storms, could hear them in the distance and would always run right to Walt’s side. Tonight was no different. The first hint of a strong wind had Michael crawling into his bed, plush shark in hand. The first splash of rain on the roof had Michael and the shark curled up against his shoulder, his shark patterned blanket wrapped tight around his body.

The thunder crashed and Michael shuddered again. His curls stuck out of the blanket, his small nose and eyes the only other thing Walt could see. Michael’s eyes were closed tight, a worried crease to his brow. Walt wasn’t sure what it was about storms that made Michael’s nightmares worse, maybe it was how the house would shake, the howl of the wind, that reminded his subconscious mind of the crash or maybe it was something more human. Plenty of kids were afraid of storms.

Lightning flashed again and Michael moved even closer. Walt watched as Michael’s small hand, and one small pectoral fin from his shark, left the safe confines of his blanket and latched on to Walt’s shirt. Walt moved his arms so that he could wrap Michael up in his arms. Michael’s head snuggled into Walt’s shoulder, his plush shark pushed into Walt’s chin, but Walt didn’t mind. He’d take minor discomfort if it meant that Michael felt safe. The thunder roared again, seemingly right over the house, and Walt felt a searing hot pain on his collarbone.

He looked down to where Michael’s hand had slipped from its grip on his shirt to his collarbone. Michael’s hand glowed red and bright. The initial burning on Walt’s skin quickly turned from something painful to a warm, soothing heat. He felt the warmth spread throughout his body as Michael’s hand stopped glowing. 

Walt watched in wonder as a faint, glittery handprint started to form on his collarbone. The warm feeling in his body slowly turned to a deep set fear. Every gust of wind meant a new shudder crept through his body and the small body tucked in his arms. He squeezed Michael just a little bit tighter and he felt a little of the fear loosen in his chest. He brought a hand up to card through Michael’s messy curls and he felt the fear lessen even more.

He looked down at the handprint which was slowly turning colors and then back at Michael’s hand. He gently took Michael’s hand in his. Ms. Nora hadn’t told him much about their powers, told him a little more about their world than anything, but for a place that connected minds, it wouldn’t surprise him that they had a way to share feelings like this.

Inquisitive, he gently moves Michael’s hand to the slowly forming print, curious about how much little hands could connect them. As Michael’s hand pressed to the print, Walt saw flashes of the last few months. He saw Michael’s wonder the first time they drove through the junkyard. He saw Michael hiding behind his shark- Sharkey, a small voice in his head told him- as they watched Wishbone and something scary happened on the screen. He felt how Michael felt every time Walt pulled him into a hug, every time Walt smiled at him, and every time Walt understood exactly what Michael was trying to tell him. He tried to push the feeling back, how wonderful it felt that Michael trusted him, how much he loved when Michael would hold his hand or when Michael would come to him when he was scared. He thought _I love you_ as hard as he could at the sleeping Michael. He felt a tiny little nudge, a sleepy little whisper of _I love you_ in the back of his head. 

The wind howled in the background, but this time Walt didn’t feel the flash of fear. Instead, he felt a contented warmth, like the feeling of sitting in front of a fire, wrapped in a blanket. He felt Michael relax in his arms, felt Sharkey settle against his stomach as Michael’s tight grip on the toy loosened. Finally, Michael slept at peace. Walt pressed a kiss to his forehead before he let himself fall asleep as well.

* * *

**The First Day of School**

Walt took one last look at the school list before comparing it to the small pile on the table: crayons, tissue box, and the shark backpack that Walt had splurged on after he had seen Michael’s longing gaze. They had everything they needed for the first day of kindergarten. Walt took one last look at the note at the bottom of the list and prepared himself for a battle.

“Michael!” He called from the kitchen. Michael’s curly mop popped out of the bathroom doorway. “Come in here after you finished brushing your teeth!”

Michael flashed him a foamy grin before he ducked back into the bathroom.

Walt sighed as he packed Michael’s lunch into his, sadly shark-less, lunchbox. The bag of goldfish, the mix of original and rainbow fish as always, was crammed in with the ham and cheese sandwich and the apple slices he was sure were going to still be in the lunchbox when Michael got back from school. He put the lunchbox into the backpack, along with the 8-pack of crayons and the tissue box. He looked at Sharkey in his place at the table, a trail of Cheerios leading from Michael’s bowl to Sharkey’s mouth. 

This won’t go over well. 

Michael slid into the kitchen, socked feet taking him past Walt and the table. Michael stumbled back toward the table and grabbed Sharkey. Walt looked at Michael’s smile and sighed again.

“Ok kid,” he said as he kneeled to Michael’s level. “I’m going to tell you something and you are not going to like it.” Michael’s smile stayed on his face, but his head moved to the side in the way that Walt knew meant confusion. “The school has a rule. You can’t have your from-home toys out during school, except during recess.” Michael kept looking at Walt like he didn’t understand. “You’re not allowed to have Sharkey out during school, unless you’re outside on the playground.”

Michael eyes grew wide as his smile fell. Walt could see the tears in his eyes.

“I know Michael,” he said as he pulled Michael in for a hug. “I know you’re a little scared and you want Sharkey to protect you, but you’re going to have to be brave ok? You can carry him into school, but when they tell you to put him away, you have to put him in your backpack, ok?”

Walt pulled back to look at Michael’s face. He had tears on his cheeks and Walt rubbed at them with his thumb. He watched as Michael buried his face into Sharkey’s side as he rubbed at his dorsal fin. He pulled Michael in for another hug.

“I know,” he whispered into Michael’s hair, his normally gruff voice even rougher than usual. “But it will be ok. Sharkey will be right in your backpack and I’ll be there to pick you up at the end of the day, ok?” Michael didn’t respond. “Ok?” Finally, Michael nodded.

Walt gave him one last squeeze before he let go of Michael. He grabbed Michael’s backpack from the table and took Michael’s hand, the one not desperately clutching Sharkey. They walked to the car and settled in. Once Michael was buckled in, Walt started to drive through the junkyard. As they drove to school, Walt snuck glances back at Michael. He had Sharkey face to face with him, as if Michael was talking to Sharkey. There were still tears in his eyes, but his breathing was calm. He contemplated the student drop-off line before he turned into a parking spot. It would be better to warn his teacher. There is a lot that they will not be prepared for.

They did know that Michael didn’t speak, Michael would be starting a group with at least another student the second week of school, but Walt was sure that they were not prepared for the complete breakdown they would be seeing today.

“Hello Mr. Sanders!” Michael’s teacher, Ms. Taylor called when they entered the classroom. “And hello there Michael,” she smiled at him.

Michael immediately burst into tears.

“Oh dear,” Ms. Taylor said, “are you missing your dad already? It’s okay, we’ll have an awesome day!” She smiled softly, as she tried to calm Michael down.

Michael hugged Sharkey closer to his chest and moved closer to Walt’s leg.

“It’s not me he’s missing,” Walt admitted as he ruffled Michael’s curls. “We’ve been working on getting Michael ready for the last few weeks. It’s the rule about outside toys that’s upsetting him. We didn’t see that note until this morning.”

“Ah,” Ms. Taylor said as she watched Michael hug Sharkey. She momentarily got distracted by another student coming through the door. “Oh! Good morning Alex,” she said to the student. “Why don’t you go put your backpack in a cubby and then come over here and meet your new classmate?”

Walt watched as the youngest Manes boy put his bag away and walked up to them.

“Oh cool! Your shark is awesome!” Alex’s words were a little difficult to understand, his _s_ -sounds lisping. Michael looked around Sharkey’s side at the smiling boy. “But you’ll want to put him away so that no one gets anything on him! Here! You can put your bag next to mine!” He grabbed Michael’s hand and pulled him toward the cubbies.

“He’ll be ok,” Ms. Taylor said to Walt as they watched Michael gently place Sharkey in the cubby so that he faced out into the room. “Alex is a sweet kid, I had him in my preschool room last year. He’ll make sure Michael’s ok.”

Walt nodded. He hoped his expression read as the usual worry of a parent on their kid’s first day of school, instead of the concern over a Manes in such close proximity to his son.

“I’ll see you at 2:45,” Walt said, as he moved toward the door. He stopped as a little body slammed into his knees. He bent down to give Michael a hug. “Love you,” he whispers into Michael’s curls. Michael reached up so that Walt could see his hand make the sign for I love you.

\- 

Walt stood at the front of the school, an absolute nervous wreck. There hadn’t been a call from the school, no break down that he was aware of, but it was still nerve-wrecking. A million small things could happen during a school day, and all Walt could think about was Michael, his bright inquisitive Michael, hating school.

He breathed out a sigh of relief as Michael caught sight of him as he left the school and ran towards him, Sharkey in one hand and a paper in another.

“Whacha got there, kid?” Walt asked as Michael almost knocked him over.

Michael proudly held up the artwork. It was a picture of Sharkey. The lines weren’t as straight as Michael’s usually were, the color a little out of the lines as well.

“Did you draw this?” Walt asked as he placed his hand on Michael’s back and ushered him towards the truck.

Michael shook his head. When they got to the truck, Michael turned the picture so that Walt could see the wildly formed “Alex” on the back.

“Alex drew this for you?” Michael nodded. “He didn’t want you to miss Sharkey too much, did he?” Michael’s grinned widened. “How about we hang this up when we get home?” Michael looked at him with large, pleading eyes. “’Course, you can have a snack first. Did you eat your apple?” Michael shook his head. “Then you can have some of your apple before you have more goldfish.”

Michael threw his head back in exaggerated anguish. Walt just shook his head at his son’s antics. Walt could suspend his worries about a Manes boy, if it meant that Michael’s school days always ended this happily.

* * *

**The First Word**

The sun shined on the unseasonably warm day in early January. Michael had woken early, his usual time no matter the day of the week, and immediately set to making breakfast. Normally, breakfast was Honey Nut Cheerios, but this morning Michael had decided that pancakes were necessary. He had decided it before Walt had ever made it to the kitchen.

Egg shells and flour covered the kitchen counter as Walt ushered Michael away from the, thankfully, unlit stove top and toward the kitchen table where Sharkey sat far out of harm’s reach. Walt was thankful for that too. The last thing he wanted to do was wash the plushie, again, and have Michael stare longingly at the drying toy for hours. Walt threw out Michael ‘batter’ and started on a new, safe to eat one. He’d have to run and get more eggs this weekend. He added them to the grocery list as he waited for the skillet to heat.

Michael sat at the table and watched his dad cook. Walt could feel his nervous energy and, sure enough, when he looked over Michael was squirming in his seat.

“Grab some plates,” Walt said as he poured the batter. Michael grinned and popped up from his seat. He grabbed plates and put them out next to Walt so he could put the finished pancakes on them. He grabbed the butter knives and forks, the butter and honey and syrup, and set the table. He sat back down, kicking his feet, and waited for Walt to finish the food.

They ate their breakfast in companionable silence. Walt had to remind Michael that Sharkey and sticky foods do not mix, but overall it was a normal breakfast for them. Michael was as quiet as always, though antsier than usual. Walt watched as Michael’s eyes moved from his plate to the stove to the back door.

“Did somebody leave your motor on? Why are you so keyed up, kid?” Walt asked as he eyed Michael. Michael squirmed again, but this time his brows were furrowed in the way that said he was confused. He tilted his head at Walt. “I mean, why are you squirming in your seat? Do you have something you need to do?”

Michael furrowed his brows even further and set his mouth in a firm line. Walt had gotten pretty good at reading Michael’s expressions and his signs. It had helped when they checked a book on American Sign Language out of the library, but Walt had some issues forming a lot of the signs himself, so demonstrating them to Michael when he didn’t understand the pictures and all the words in the book was difficult. He was dexterous enough to fix an engine, but the finer movements were impossible for his aging hands. 

Walt watched as Michael struggled to figure out a way to convey his feelings before he shrugged and picked up his plate to bring it to the sink. He walked over to the stove and reached for the pan.

“That’s still hot,” Walt said as he stood up with his own plate. “Why don’t you go outside and play, and I’ll clean up.”

Michael made the sound Walt associated with frustration but he still moved to grab Sharkey and went out the backdoor. 

Walt puttered around the kitchen as he tried to clean up after the whirlwind that was his son. He started with the dirty dishes and then moved back to where there were still egg shells and flour covering the counter. He had started on the skillet when he heard the sound of a car hood snapping shut. He dropped the skillet into the sink. 

The screen door slammed as Walt bolted from the house, past the small patch of land he had cleared so he and Michael could start a garden, past the clearing Michael usually played in, and straight to the line of cars waiting for him to fix. His heart was in his throat as his eye scanned for Michael. The sound of the car hood echoed in his head and he ran down the row of cars.

He got to the smallest car in the row, a little sports car driven only once by a teenager and right up a curb, when he saw Michael sprawled on the ground. Walt leaned down, turned Michael over to check he was okay. Everything seemed in order, other than the tears in Michael’s eyes, so Walt picked him up.

“What have you been doing?” He asked Michael as they walked back to the house. He stopped to pick Sharkey up from his spot in the grass and handed him to Michael. Michael took him and hugged him to his chest while he kept his face buried in Walt’s shoulder. “You know you’re not allowed to play around the cars,” he said as he eased the screen door open. He maneuvered through the kitchen and gently placed Michael on the couch.

He looked Michael over again. It was quick out in the Junkyard, no visible blood and no obviously broken bones, but the worry was still there. He looked Michael over carefully, gently running his fingers through Michael’s hair to feel for bumps and scanned his eyes down his arms and legs to see if he had missed anything. The only thing off was the tears in Michael’s eyes.

“What happened Michael?” Walt mumbled as he thumbed away his tears.

“Dad,” a small voice said, one Walt had only heard when Michael accidentally left a handprint. “Dad.” He said again as he threw his arms around Walt.

Walt held Michael close as Michael cried. Walt tried to keep his own tears in, tried to be calm in the face of Michael’s words, _his words_ , but it was impossible.

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded.

Michael just clung to him more. Walt held him as Michael’s tears slowed. He rocked him and rubbed his back as his mumbled “Dad” became less hiccupped and more calm. He held Michael long after the tears stopped.

He kept Michael on his lap, but pulled away enough so he could see Michael’s still tear-stained face. “Are you ok?” He asked, first and foremost. Michael nodded and brought Sharkey’s side close to his face. “Good,” Walt nodded to himself. “That’s good. Ok.”

“Dad,” Michael said again. He brought Sharkey down so he could worry at his dorsal fin. “I’m sorry.”

Walt tried to get Michael to look at him. When that didn’t work, he rearranged Michael so that they were both facing the blank tv and Walt could wrap his arms around Michael more firmly.

“You know you aren’t supposed to play around the cars, Michael,” Walt said, choosing to ignore Michael’s new-found language acquisition. “Why were you over there?”

Michael’s breathing hitched again and Walt snuggled Michael closer.

“I was trying to help,” Michael admitted after a moment. “I wanted to help you and you weren’t getting it and you just kept doing stuff and you didn’t understand what I meant and how can I take care of you if you won’t let me help?”

Walt took a moment to untangle Michael’s words. His sentence started out clear, but it quickly ran together and Walt could barely make out the words. Michael wanted to help him. Michael wanted to take care of him. Michael, his 6-year old Michael, was trying to take care of him.

“You know you’re not supposed to be taking care of me, right kid?” Walt asked. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”

“But families take care of each other!” Michael untangled himself from Walt’s arms. “It was in our book at school! We take care of each other and we help? I want to help! I just made a mess.” Tears formed in Michael’s eyes again.

Walt couldn’t stand it.

“Yes, families help each other,” Walt said. He didn’t think of his parents when he said it. Instead he thought of Roy and Ms. Louise and Ms. Nora and the family they made. “But you’re still a kid Michael. That’s not the way you help. We’ll find other ways, but you are not to use the stove and you are not to play near the cars. Does that work for you? Finding other ways for you to help?”

Michael nodded, eyes wide with his unshed tears.

“Ok, good. We’ll figure out where you can help. Maybe you can start by cleaning your room.” Michael nodded eagerly until Walt got to the end of the sentence, then he eyed him suspiciously. “That would be a good way for you to help, kid.”

Michael rubbed a hand against his eye and nodded again. “What about with work? Sometimes you have to work on the weekends and I want to play with you but I can’t.”

“We’ll find some way for you to help there too, maybe you can be my assistant.” Michael beamed at the idea. “Well, that’s settled. You’re my assistant now.” He moved Michael off of his lap and on to the couch. “Now, is this talking thing staying?” 

Michael nodded.

“Ok.” Walt nodded back. “Guess it was a little too quiet around here anyway.”

Michael giggled. Walt and Michael curled up together on the couch. Walt closed his eye and let Michael’s voice wash over him. He would definitely get used to this.

* * *

**The First Addition to the Family**

Since Michael’s first vocal words, Walt had gotten used to his excitable chatter. Generally, Michael would tell Walt everything he learned in school, or what Alex Manes had done to make him smile that day, or the new awesome shark fact he learned.

It was unusual, now that Michael’s chatter was audible to Walt always, for his son to be quiet on the way home from school. There was the initial excitement over the three shark books the librarian let him check out- “Even though you’re only allowed two, Dad!”- and the newest Sharkey picture Alex Manes had drawn him, the usual things that Michael would get excited about right after school. That hadn’t lasted past the parking lot. Now the truck was mostly quiet, the faint crackle of the radio low as the country standards station went in and out.

Walt snuck a look into the rearview mirror, but all he could see was Michael’s curly head bent over a stack of paper just out of view. Michael’s head didn’t pick up throughout the drive. It took Walt opening the door for Michael to realize they were at the house. Michael picked his head up, confused at their surroundings, and then quickly moved the papers so Walt couldn’t see them.

“Kid,” Walt sighed. He was sure he had at least six more years before his son started to try to hide things from him.

Michael just gave him a big smile before he unbuckled himself and got out of his booster seat. He walked up to the front door and waited for Walt to open the door. Walt grumbled as he followed, Michael’s backpack in hand.

Really, he should have realized something was up, even without the silence. Sharkey was still packed in Michael’s backpack and not in his hands, ready for their next adventure. Walt unlocked the door and held it open as Michael ran through the living room and into the kitchen. He followed behind him, slowly, and watched as Michael arranged the kitchen chairs.

“Come on Dad!” He pointed to the seat far away from the table.

Walt put Michael’s bag down and took his seat. Michael grabbed the paper and held it so that Walt could see it. It was a picture of Michael, Walt, and a dog.

“That’s a great picture kid. You’re getting good at drawing.” By now, Michael knew Walt’s gruff voice didn’t mean he was joking or lying, he knew he was serious. That was just how his voice sounded. Walt let the corners of his mouth curl up, just so Michael could see he meant it.

“Thanks Dad,” Michael said with a smile. “Alex helped me with them!”

Walt held back a snort; of course he did. Every day Walt heard about how great a drawer Alex Manes was.

Michael put the first picture on the floor. “My teacher says that when people want things, they make present-ations. So, I made one.” He picked up the next piece of paper that read ‘I want a dog’. He put that on the ground and held up the next paper. It just said ‘please’.

Walt could see the places where the teacher wrote the letters and Michael drew over them. His kid was smart, very smart. He was getting to the point where he could read some of his books himself. Remembering how to spell words when they weren’t in front of him, however, was still well beyond him. He was, after all, still only six.

“Kid, I told you when you got here, he’d live outside. If we got a dog, he wouldn’t be a house dog.”

“I know Dad,” he said and then moved to change pictures. This time it was a picture of the couch, with Walt, Michael, and a dog under a blanket. Walt could tell, because the blanket was only a square and there was a label that said ‘blanket’. “He’d help keep us warm in winter! I know you were complaining about the fireplace and how cold it got! But a dog would keep us warm as we read!” He moved to the next picture, which showed multiple beds. Walt slept in one, Michael and a little gray blob that had to be Sharkey slept in another. The dog was in another room, near a window. “If something happened at night, the dog would be here in the house to protect us!”

“Michael, how many pictures did you draw?” Walt asked.

“A bunch, like so many!” Michael said as he picked up more pictures. “I wanted you to know how much I really want a dog. I want to help take care of something, like how you took care of me. Maria in school was telling me that there are dogs at a place, like how I was at that house before you took me home. I want to make something happy and safe, like you did for me.”

Walt held in his tears as he looked at his little boy, wide-eyed and earnest. He got like this a lot, worried about the world around him and all the people and things who needed love. His heart was so big, even when he was so little.

“Ok kid, you’ve convinced me,” Walt said as he stood up.

“Really?” Michael yelled. Walt nodded and Michael threw himself at Walt’s legs. “Really really?” He asked again.

“Yes Michael. Really, really.” He ruffled Michael’s hair.

“You’re the best Dad!” He yelled as he let go of Walt’s legs and moved to his backpack. “Did you hear that Sharkey! We’re getting a dog! And I’m going to get him a Sharkey just for him!” Michael took Sharkey out of his bag and moved to pick up the pictures from the ground.

Walt left the room as Michael excitedly explained all about dogs and pets to Sharkey. Walt rubbed at his eye to hold his tears in.

-

They went to the shelter over the weekend. Michael had his Sharkey in one hand and the dog toy shark in the other. They walked through the shelter as the volunteer explained about the different dogs there. Michael watched as they passed the different enclosures. There were so many dogs, more than he thought there could possibly be, and he was overwhelmed.

“We’ll take our time,” Walt told him as they passed another group of puppies playing. “We’ll find the best one for us, ok?” 

Michael nodded as he looked around. He looked up at Walt. “Dad, is there any dog here that really needs a home? Like how all those people came to see me, but they always chose another kid instead?”

Walt stopped in his tracks. He had hoped, hoped against hope really, that Michael hadn’t been at the group home long enough to feel the sting of rejection. He knelt by Michael who had stopped walking when he did.

“I’m sure there is Michael,” he said. He made sure to ruffle his hand through Michael’s hair as he spoke. “But I’m also sure that I’m the luckiest Dad in the world, because I get to have you as my son. You and I? We’re meant to be family. And we’re going to find the dog that’s meant to be in our family too.”

Michael smiled up at Walt, as if he hadn’t just said the most heartbreaking thing to him, as if Walt didn’t have to constantly reaffirm how much he loved Michael. Michael ruffled Walt’s hair, now that he was on Michael’s level. “I know Dad! That’s why I want to find the one who was like me! He’s still here because he’s meant for us!”

Walt gave Michael a quick hug and stood to face the volunteer. “You heard the man. Is there a dog who’s been here a while? Maybe one with a low chance of being adopted?”

The volunteer looked startled. “Are you looking for an older dog? Those tend to be the ones we have the hardest times finding homes for. Well, old dogs and pit bulls. It’s a shame really, they’re wonderful dogs and great with kids. People just have a perception about them, you know?”

Michael looked at Walt. Walt asked, “So, do you have any older dogs? Or pit bulls?”

The volunteer smiled. “No older dogs, but we do currently have a pit bull who is two or three. He was found wandering the streets,” she said as she walked through the shelter towards a pen in the back. “Poor boy had an accident of some kind. He had a bad cut on his eye when we got him. He kept his eye, but he can’t really see out of it. Other than that, he’s such a sweet little guy. We’ve been calling him Sam.”

She brought them to Sam’s enclosure and Walt heard Michael’s small little gasp. Walt looked up and sure enough, the dog had a scar that crossed his left eye and a hazy, cloudy pupil.

“Dad! He’s perfect!” Michael said, nearly breathless. “Can we meet him?” He asked the volunteer.

She laughed. “Of course, give me one moment to set everything up.”

They watched as she brought the dog over to the ‘meet and greet’ enclosure. Michael smiled as the dog’s tail wagged nonstop as the volunteer put him on a leash and led him out to them.

Walt took Sharkey from Michael’s hand. “Go on,” he said. “Go introduce yourself.”

Michael walked over to where the volunteer had the dog.

“Go on, put your hand out so he can sniff you.” Michael did. The dog’s nose was in his palm in a moment. “He’s very friendly and loves kids, as I said.” She showed Michael how to give him head pets. “You can sit down,” she said as the dog started to squirm on the leash. “I’ll let go of him. He may try to climb on you, just stay calm. He won’t hurt you, ok?”

“Ok,” Michael said as he sat down. He put the dog-Sharkey down in his lap. She slowly loosened her hold on the leash. The dog was in Michael’s lap in an instant, tongue out and giving dog kisses. Michael giggled. 

Walt watched as Michael played with the dog. Watched as the dog jumped around and licked and rolled all over him, and never once tried to snap or growl or bark. Even when Michael accidentally pulled on his tail. He watched as the dog started to tire after twenty minutes of play. He watched as Michael held out the dog-Sharkey and the pit bull held it on his mouth. The dog laid down with his head in Michael’s lap. He could hear Michael, barely, as he started to pet his head again.

“Dad does this to my hair too. It feels really nice and makes me happy. I bet it feels nice for you too.”

Walt interrupted his one-side conversation to ask. “So, are we keeping the name Sam or naming him something else?”

Michael looked at the pit bull thoughtfully. “I think he’s more like a Squid.”

Walt did not follow that logic but he didn’t question it either. It was a little better than naming their dog Shark like he feared.

“Well, there you have it,” he said to the volunteer. She was smiling down at Michael and Squid too. Walt tried to imagine what it was like, watching a dog stay day after day, knowing the chance of him finding a family was slim. He’s glad Michael and Squid never had to feel that way again. “Let’s talk about paperwork.”

They brought Squid home that night. The dog house stayed empty and Squid fell asleep on Michael’s bed. Walt looked over at one of the pictures in Michael’s presentation that was still on the kitchen table from the week prior. There, at the bottom of the pile, was a picture of Walt, Michael, Sharkey, and a dog with a carefully traced ‘Our Family’ written on top. Walt added it to the fridge. It was true, after all.

He went into Michael's bedroom, kissed him and Squid goodnight one more time, and then went to bed.

* * *

**The Second Use of Powers**

The spring morning dawned bright over the horizon. The light crept through the grounds of the junkyard before it crept through the front windows. Walt watched as the light started to illuminate his bedroom. It was quiet in the house and Walt took the moment to appreciate. It would shatter in a moment. 

It was a Friday morning in May. Generally, Michael would be grumpily getting ready for school. Grumpily, not because Michael didn’t like going to school, but because he hated leaving Squid’s warmth and his bed. In fact, generally, once Michael woke up, the mornings were loud and bright, as Michael would talk about his dreams the night before or the book they read in class.

Walt closed his eyes at the light started to hit the corners of his pillow. Any moment now, Michael would be at his door with Squid on his tail. It wouldn’t be a normal Friday morning. Michael had off from school, but Walt would still have work. He had promised Michael that he’d get to help today. Walt didn’t have anything too difficult on his agenda, nothing that could put Michael in harm’s way. Any moment now, Michael would creep into his room and climb into bed, Sharkey in hand as always, with Squid plopping down in front of the bed, between the door and Michael.

Sure enough, Walt heard the soft pad of Michael’s feet on the wood floor, followed by the click of Squid’s paws and nails. His door creaked open and Michael’s messy bedhead poked in. He opened the door more and moved toward Walt’s bed. Sharkey was placed on the bed before Michael climbed up. Walt didn’t need to see to know that Squid laid down, ears perked and ready to defend Michael in case anything, except the vacuum, attacked.

“Morning Shark Bait,” Walt grumbled as Michael moved under the blanket to cuddle up next to Walt.

“Morning Dad,” Michael said, face pressed into Walt’s armpit. Walt moved Sharkey so he no longer rammed into his side. He placed Sharkey near Michael’s other arm and laughed as he instantly curled the plushie closer.

“You wanna stay in bed for a little,” Walt asked as Michael’s face stayed hidden. He laughed as Michael grumbled. “Or,” he continued, “are you ready to go help me in the shop today?” 

Michael rolled over and popped up, almost falling off the bed in his enthusiasm. “I’m ready!” He yelled. Walt snorted as Squid grumbled, a complaint over Michael’s volume. Michael grinned over at Walt. “Come on Dad! Breakfast first!

Walt shook his head at his son’s enthusiasm for work, enthusiasm he’s not too sure will last long into the day, but he sat up and got out of bed.

“Come on Squid!” Michael said as he ran down the stairs.

Squid looked over at Walt as he moved to grab his slippers and robe. “It’s ok boy, you can stay here,” he said as he followed Michael out the door.

Michael had the bacon, oil, and iron skillet out by the time Walt got to the kitchen. He knew better than to try and start cooking.

“Thanks kid,” Walt said as he put the skillet on the counter. “What else we having today?”

“Waffles?” Michael asked, hopeful.

“We still don’t have a waffle maker, Shark Bait.” Michael pouted. “We’ll go to The Crashdown tomorrow for waffles. How about eggs and fruit?” Michael nodded. “Go ahead and grab the fruit and make us some bowls.”

Michael moved to the fridge and grabbed the pre-cut fruits.

Walt moved his focus to the skillet, oil already heating. He added the first few pieces of bacon and put the splatter screen over it. He focused on the pan, on the bacon getting crispy, and moved to flip the bacon. He finished the first round and moved to the second. He absentmindedly placed the splatter screen on the counter and added the bacon, slightly distracted by Squid coming into the kitchen to sniff at the counter.

“Fuck!” He cried as the oil started to splatter around. It hit his arm and he jerked backwards, other hand still on the skillet. Walt tried to brace himself as the pan, hot oil and all, fell forward and into him. He mentally tried to think about how he would get himself to the hospital, how freaked out Michael would be, how much money it would cost.

He readied himself for pain that never came. He looked over and there the pan was, hanging in mid-air with the oil out of the pan, and slowly moving back to the pan and away from Walt. Walt took a surprised step back and looked around. At the table was Michael, eyes wide and panicked, and his hand raised.

Walt caught himself in his panic and quickly moved the pan, oil and bacon included, back to the stove and quickly turned off the flame.

“Are you ok?” He asked as he moved towards Michael.

Michael had a little trickle of blood moving down his nose. He started to cry.

“Michael, are you ok?” He asked again as he got to Michael’s side.

Michael nodded. He slowly lowered his hand. His panicked face looked at Walt. “Dad! Are you ok?” He seemed to shake out of a trance.

“Of course I am,” he said as he grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the blood coming from Michael’s nose. “You protected me,” he said, trying to make Michael smile. “If it weren’t for you, I would have been hurt badly.”

Michael sniffled as Walt moved the bloody napkin away. “Really? I saved you?” His voice shook a little as he asked.

“You did Shark Bait,” Walt said as he pulled Michael in for a hug. “You made sure your old man was safe.”

“I always want you to be safe,” Michael admitted. 

“Me too kid,” Walt said as he grabbed Sharkey to use the plushie to wipe Michael’s tears. “That’s why you’re my assistant, right? I’d be lost without you.” 

“I’d be lost without you too, Dad.” He said with a small smile.

“Come on, let’s just have the bacon and fruit today.”

“And then I get to help you still, right?”

“Right. Like I said kid, I couldn’t do it without you.”

He watched as Michael hugged Sharkey one last time before he moved to start eating his breakfast. Walt plated some bacon for the two and just watched as Michael fed a piece of cantaloupe to Sharkey, making a small bite to mimic a shark bite, before eating the piece himself. He moved to the table and sat down to eat. He let himself smile as Michael tried to fed Squid some bacon without Walt noticing. He didn’t say anything as Squid put his paws on Michael’s chair and ate right out of his hands. He watched his family.

He hadn’t felt like this in years, not since the last moment of peace he had with his family, with Ms. Nora, Ms. Louise, and Roy. He laughed at Michael’s indignant yell as Squid tried to eat straight off of Michael’s plate.

 _Ms. Nora, you’d be proud_ , he thought before he turned his attention to his own bacon.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year! Let's hope this next one sucks a little bit less. As usual, you can find me as [ the blackhat](https://michaels-blackhat.tumblr.com) over on tumblr. If you want to see a beautiful mix of aesthetics posts and shit posts, you can follow [my main](https://christchex.tumblr.com) as well.


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